


Shield and Spear

by NikauRifka



Category: The Alexandria Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Kinda bittersweet but it would seem I am incapable of writing anything else, Spoilers, also this podcast needs more content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikauRifka/pseuds/NikauRifka
Summary: Back in the Actuality, it went something like this.(Or, a fic because this podcast needs one)





	Shield and Spear

The night sky on Earth was nothing like it should've been. Once you've see the universe outside of an atmosphere, outside of this shadow of a reality; once you see it as it should be, there's really no going back. The faint twinkling stars against the plain dark blue backdrop were frankly just insignificant when compared to the sight of a swirling arm of a galaxy, or a supernova viewed light years away. Honestly, Blue missed the cosmos.

"Kilt, did you eat the last of the Chex Mix?" He asks - or growls, rather, as he is want to do after spending the day in wraith mode; it's hard to get re-accustomed to his normal human voice - while prowling through the kitchen pantry.

"Ah, I think Recursive ate the last of them. I'll pick up some more," Kilt shouts back from the other room, sprawled out on the couch and playing some loud video game with Gore. They both laugh at something and Blue silently scowls.

He had never been very fond of the vampire from the start, and it certainly didn't help when Kilt started dragging him on adventures the likes of which Blue use to accompany him on. It wouldn't be a stretch to say he felt replaced.

Here in this shadow of a reality it was waiting, hiding, trying to conceal their heat signatures from every passing bounty hunter. It was bidding their time, and slowly forgetting how to pilot a ship. It was wondering about what had truly happened after they were ejected in that escape pod, and wondering if they'd ever leave this damned planet.

Back in the actuality it went something like this: They were mercenaries in training, the two of them. Direct descendents of McBuzzels. The unfairly large weight of leadership was slapped on the backs of two kids who had never known a home beside that of ships and stations.

They had to take care of each other, really; growing up through war and turmoil permitted nothing less. Being taught to cause said war and turmoil made it even more necessary.

They both had their strengths. Blue's knack for negative energy caught his mother's attention, but Kilt's proclivity toward the other end of the spectrum was what put him in his place of second in command. SquintBOB, along with all the commanders that came before her, were well trained in harnessing both positive and negative energy. Where one was much better at causing the chaos the BOBs where known for, the other was necessary to keep you grounded and in this reality. Without it, they might just float away into nothingness, becoming even less real than the Shadow.

For one of these reasons, Blue made it his mission to get better at harnessing positive energy. It wasn't so much that he was bad at it, like his brother was with negative energy, it was more that he couldn't do it at all.

He goes around corridors, looking for a corner sharp enough to give himself something to heal. Once he does that, he grips his bleeding arm tightly, biting his lip in pain. He had forgotten it was going to hurt, but that was alright. It was just more motivation to get this right.

He sits on the floor, propped against a wall, focusing on the scratch that burned down his arm. It was deeper than he'd meant it to be. He feels tears sting his eyes, but he wipes them away with his sleeve. No, damnit, he's the son of the Vampoticon, _direct_ descendent of Robert McBuzzels, he  _does not cry._

He focuses on the cut, thinks about what his brother told him: "Think happy thoughts, like how cool it'll be once you do the thing." He thinks about his mother's disappointment when discovering his inability to use positive energy instead. The air above the wound glows a faint purple, then flashes, sending an additional jolt of pain through his arm. Blue shouts, retracting his arm back against his chest. He blows lightly down on it, trying to ease the pain.

A moment passes. Someone raps gently on the door. "Blue?" Comes a familiar muffled voice from the other side.

Blue takes a deep breath, steadying, and glances at the hole in his arm. "Come in," he says.

The airlock slides open and in steps Kilt. He has a look of concern on his face that's far too aged for the teenager he is.

"Are you okay? I heard-" he begins.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Blue interrupts, trying to casually hide his wound from sight.

Kilt drops to his knees to meet his brothers eye level. "I heard someone shout and- Gods, what did you do to your arm?" He exclaims.

"It's fine, I was just," Blue swallows, gesturing vaguely. His cheeks burn and his eyes go blurry, but he sniffs silently and blinks the tears away.

"Oh," Kilt sighs, pursing his lips, "Here." He holds out his hands. Blue hesitates, but places his injured arm in Kilt's upturned palms.

A cloud of white light glows around it and the torn skin stretches and knits itself back together until there's no trace of the wound at all save for the light streaks of blood staining the surrounding skin and his other hand. "There," Kilt says with a gentle smile, "All better now."

"Why can't I do that?" Blue asks, perturbed.

"I dunno," Kilt shrugs, dropping his hands into his lap, "I mean I can't do most of the things you can do."

"I guess," Blue sighs, looking down at his freshly mended skin.

"We both have our strengths, Blue," Kilt says, tilting his head in attempt to make eye contact.

"I know, but," Blue growls, "when has there ever been a McBuzzels who couldn't use both? At least you  _can_ use both energies, even though you're not good at one of them. I can't even heal a paper cut!"

Kilt frowns. "That was a bit more than a paper cut," he says.

Blue just crosses his arms and pouts his lip in response.

"Look," Kilt begins, "maybe you can't heal yourself, but does that really matter? I mean, I can always heal you, and defend you and all of that. And vice versa. You can be my dark energy, and I'll be your light. Like a, uh... Like a shield and spear, you know?" Kilt says with his ever optimistic smile. Blue doesn't know how to argue with it, so he forces a smiles back.

"Yeah," Blue replies after a moment, "yeah, you're right." He wipes the corner of his eye with his sleeve and laughs faintly.

"So you're not gonna do that again, right?" Kilt asks, eyebrow raised like a parent would.

"Right," Blue says, scratching slightly at his arm.

As it turned out, his brother wasn't lying. Blue had the power to take out his enemies in a matter of seconds - he took after his mother in that matter - but without Kilt he was vulnerable. Maybe their reliance on one another wasn't a great idea, but they had never not been there for each other.

Back on Earth, many years later, his brother is still the only thing that keeps him grounded, keeps him from completely phasing out of this reality. Maybe that's why he's always agitated in Gore's presence, or pestering Recursive whenever the other two are off chasing some fairy dognapper or running a haunted house.

But Kilt wasn't going to leave him. After all he needed Blue just as much as Blue needed him, maybe he just didn't realize it as much as Blue did.

"Hey Blue, we're gonna go get these things called Blizzards. They're like ice cream but like, better," Kilt asks as he passes by the kitchen.

"It  _is_ ice cream," Gore clarifies, following behind him, "Wanna come?"

**Author's Note:**

> I am simultaneously listening to Mission to Zyxx while writing this and I keep forgetting they don't use the word juck in The Alexandria Archives.


End file.
